Lessons in Friendship
by Calex
Summary: Written for the birthday of my friend, Avanti. Oliver Wood. Ginny Weasley. Best friends... riiiight.


Title: Lessons in Friendship  
Author: Calex  
Rating: PG-13  
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, all belongs to JK Rowling. I'm merely borrowing from her ideas, here.  
Notes: This was written as a birthday fic for Avanti. I hope that she likes, and happy 16th, girl.

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Lessons in Friendship: Oliver/Ginny  


He never had a reason to know Ginevra Weasley, after all, he was in her brother, Percy's year. She was much younger, the 7th child and Percy was the 3rd. That was a form of age difference you could gouge between the two. However, after befriending Charlie Weasley, one could not but be pulled into the easy warmth that was the Weasley family. He got to know all of them a little better, Arthur with his mad muggle loving ways, the ever warm and motherly Molly, cool Bill whom all of the Weasley children looked up to with his ponytail and fang earring; Percy, who had finally come to his senses (after the prodding of his best friend, the unlikely Marcus Flint), the terrible twosome Gred and Forge, and of course the two youngest of the family. Ron and Ginny. He'd known Charlie better when he had retired from playing with the Highland Herons and had bumped into him at a dragon reserve, and the two had started talking after Oliver had gotten himself a job at the reserve. Yes, Oliver Wood, retiring from Quidditch, his life, to work as a dragon tamer. No one would've guessed, but his passion, his _com_passion, his drive and the patience he needed to captain the Gryffindor team all worked brilliantly to make him wonderful with the dragons. It was amazing, really, what he had done with them and it was one of the reasons why he and Charlie were such good friends; like recognised like.

He'd met the whole family several times after the course of dragon taming, as Charlie delighted in asking him to the Burrow, especially after finding out that Oliver himself had no family left after the great war. The Burrow was always crowded, and also with the most unlikeliest people. Harry and Hermione were there, always, as were their norm. Luna Lovegood was around more often than not, as well. Ron and Hermione were engaged, finally, and were going to be married, for Hermione was already 4 months pregnant with their first child. Luna was still Ginny's best friend, and was currently married to Draco Malfoy of all people, so the two tended to be around quite a bit, to the protestations of Harry and Ron (although they were half-hearted protestations at best, these days). Marcus Flint and his girlfriend, Katie Bell was around as he was the best friend of Percy, Nymphadora Tonks was about, as was Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini. It was a mismatched group that found themselves in the Burrow year after year and through all the skirmishes that undoubtedly and inevitably happened, they were a satisfied group. Well, mostly.

He hated Christmas, it reminded him of home and his family in a big sprawling house in the Scottish Highlands, snow capped mountains all around. They always had a Christmas tree in their home, and his little brother Jamie and his sister Maeve would always decorate it with stringed pop corn and candy canes and charmed candles. His Mam would charm a small snow cloud above the tree so they would have real snowflakes on their tree. The whole family would sit in front of a big roaring fire in their living room sipping hot chocolate, or read a book, or talk or even play games. They were a happy family, all of them. He and Maeve were the Quidditch mad ones, Jamie liked the more muggle sport of Football, as did his Da. Mam would just listen to their arguments with an indulgent smile on her face, her feet tucked under her and her head resting on his Da's shoulder while she knitted. He had had a dog, a little half collie half Shetland Shepherd the family had dubbed Becky, and she would curl up at his feet, her dear little head resting in his lap and her big chocolate eyes wide and pleading for just one more treat. None of them survived.

Death Eaters had done their job and done it well, he could still feel the panic, the pain, the fear and the horror he had felt upon...upon finding them. Oliver had just come back from practice, feeling exultant, when he saw the first fall of his family. Becky had been decapitated and hung over the door like some victory, and he had dropped his supply bag and ran over to let her down with trembling hands. His throat had been tight, and he had nearly been hysterical as he stroked the cold, stiff form of his beloved and faithful dog. He'd gotten up, pushed open the blood splattered door and met with more horrors. It was clean, no sign of upset, but on the kitchen table... his mother lay with her husband on top of her, covering her, trying to protect her, her eyes wide with horror. The only thing on Douglas Wood's face was a fierce determination to protect his wife and family, and that had been one of the fingers of pain that had shot through Oliver. It didn't help, they had shot both of them with the killing curse. Oliver had staggered through the house, calling out, hoping, just _hoping_ for _any_ sign of survivors... when he found his little brother.

This scene was wholly different from the first. It was in the kitchen, the pristine and neat kitchen that was his mother's domain. Tables and chairs were upended, glass broken all over the floor and made crunching noises as he stepped over them. Jamie lay in a pool of his own cooling blood, his face blue with the loss, a knife sticking out of his stomach. He had several cuts on his body and Oliver, seeing them, had staggered over towards the sink and had thrown up, gagged. Gone, all of them, gone. And Maeve... of god, Maeve. He remembered the panic as he recalled the missing member of his family and he called desperately for her. He found her in her room, on her bed, naked. Naked and violated, and eyes wide and dull, lifeless. Oliver had collapsed, then, cried, sobbed as he held his little sister and rocked. All of them, gone. And he, for the firs time, alone. All alone. That was when he retired from playing professional quidditch.

"Oliver?" The soft voice broke through painful memories and he slowly blinked, the mists clearing as he looked up to see the intruder. It was Ginny and she had a steaming cup with her. "Mum was getting worried, you've been out here awfully long."

"Your mam needn't worry, lass," Oliver smiled, faintly. "I'm a big lad now, I think I can take care of myself."

"Tell that to her," Ginny snorted. "She still fusses over Bill for crying out loud, and look how old _he_ is." She hesitated then, looking at him carefully. "Can I intrude, or is this a private party?"

"I..." he glanced at the cup she held and thought passingly of what he had been relieving and smiled at her. "Why not. Pull up a rock, lass, and tell me what's been going on in your life since I saw you last."

"And share some of this wonderful hot chocolate of mum's while I'm at it, ay?" Ginny asked, dryly, but she handed him the cup that he had been eyeing like a man deprived of drink for a long time. Oliver took it gratefully and took a deep sip, savouring the taste of real hot chocolate, just the way Molly Weasley made it. He looked up at her and grinned.

"Aye, that too. But you can hardly blame me, can you? Your Mam makes the best hot chocolate I've ever tasted."

"And the best pot roast, and you're almost missing it, highland boy." She perused him, noted the pinched look on his face, and the still tightly held fists. She placed a hand on his arm. "Are you okay, Oli?"

"What?" he looked surprised, then smiled sadly. "I'm fine, lass. Just...memories."

"Christmas is horrid for memories, isn't it?" she said, softly and Oliver only nodded. "Mum and Charlie said not to pry you with questions and the like, you know. Not to bother you with anything. But you look like you could use a friend."

"I've been mollycoddled far too long, lass," he said, gently, but was surprised when she shook her head at him.

"A friend doesn't drown you in their sympathy, Oli. A friend offers you a hug, shares your sympathy and helps you to go on with your life, whatever it takes. A friend is there, holding your hand, despite you kicking them down again and again during a hard time. I just want to be that person for you, Morgana knows you need one." She reached forward and tucked back a strand of dark brown hair that was just this side of long and smiled. "Charlie's a bad influence. You're getting Bill-hair." Oliver laughed at that.

"Yes, I reckon I am, aren't I? It must look frightful, long," he looked sheepish. "I'd been planning to cut it for a long time, before I met your mam again, you know. Never did get around to it."

"I can see that," she sighed as her feet kicked at the inch high snow on the ground. "D'you... think about what happened, a lot?" Oliver's eyes darkened and he looked away, the cup of hot chocolate forgotten in his hands.

"To tell you the truth, not as much as I used to. Not nearly as much as I should do."

"Oh, Oli," Ginny slipped off her rock and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Don't say that. It's been three years. You're healing. You shouldn't beat yourself up for not thinking about them, it's good that you don't, not as much."

"What do you expect me to do, Ginny?" he asked, angrily. "Forget them?"

"I never said that, Oliver," she said, quietly. "I said that it didn't make you a bad person to not thinking about them as much. It's not healthy if you keep on about the past. I should know," her lips twisted in something that was not quite a smile. "I of all people should know best of all." Oliver turned to look at her, confused. She shook her head and straightened to walked a little ways away from him.

"Ginny?"

Surprising how one small word could say so much, she thought with a wry quirk to her mouth. Surprising how _he_ could say so much with just one word. Oliver didn't know... She shook her head. How could he _not_ know? He was there, when it happened. He was in his...sixth, seventh year? She couldn't remember anymore. Truth be told, she _didn't _want to remember anymore. No one could blame her, really. Bad memories. Bad dreams. Worse nightmares. She didn't want to re-live _that_ time again.

"The Chamber of Secrets. My first year in Hogwarts."

Oliver looked at her with horror in his eyes. "_Merlin_..." he murmured. "That would certainly explain a few things. How...?"

"A present. From the wonderful Mr. Malfoy. A diary," she shook her head, a wry look on her face. "It had to be a bloody diary."

"Ginny, I-"

"Don't you bloody dare say you're sorry," she said, harshly. "Don't you dare. Like you, I've had enough of pity. I've had pity since I was twelve. I am not going to stand for further more pity, not after eight years down the road. I'm quite through with the pity." He nodded, understanding. Instead he held out a hand to her. She looked at the hand quizzically, then back up at him.

"A truce," he said, quietly. "You were willing to offer friendship. I offer you the same. We won't talk about the past, not to each other. Onwards, eh?" She looked surprised at his words, then a smile slowly bloomed from her lips, lighting her face from the darkness that pain and anger had put there. She solemnly shook the offered hand.

"Onwards," her lips quirked. "And upwards." He laughed and the two of them walked towards the house for the Christmas dinner that Molly had prepared for them.

* * *

_  
  
2 years later_

Eggs. Flour. Sugar. Chocolate drops. Butter. The heat of an over her face like a blast. The _tick tock _ of the clock making her ever so aware of the time... or what there wasn't of it. Late, late, late. Finally, she took the end product out of the oven and set it on the kitchenette to cool. She turned for the bowl of chocolate sauce she had prepared when the knock sounded on her door. Once. Twice. Three times. A pause. Knock once. Twice. Three times. No, not now. Bloody hell, anytime but _now_! Her eyes sought the clock furtively even as she began making her way to the front door of her apartment and she swore. Half and hour. Half an hour to go. Shit. She stalked over to the front door, then yanked the door open, a fierce glare fastened on her face.

"Morgana, lass. You can be just a wee bit frightening like that."

The glare evaporated like steam from water hitting ashphalt on the hottest day of summer and a grin infused it's way to her face. She threw herself at the person standing on the other side of the door with a joyfully cried out "Oliver!"

"Aye, lass," he grinned. Then he sobered. "How are you?" Ginny sighed, letting him go.

"I'm fine, really. I knew it wasn't going to last."

"The bloke's bloody blind and stupid, if he doesn't hold on to the likes of you," Oliver said loyally, but also honestly. She laughed.

"I'm not too sure about blind, but I've always known him to be slightly soft in the head. Really, Oli. I don't mind a single bit. At least, not since you're here. Charlie didn't say you were coming." Oliver looked slightly sheepish.

"Might be 'cause I didn't quite tell him." Ginny raised an eyebrow as she held open her door and led him inside, with him lugging a crimson duffel. Gryffindor to the end, is her Oli, Ginny thought wryly. Then paused. _Her_ Oli? Oh. _Oh_! She blushed. Shite. When had it happened? They'd been practically best friends for two years now, and she'd never, ever guessed, realised. Oliver turned around to see what was making her linger at the back and shot her a grin. Well. Maybe she found out a reason to why she was suddenly liking him. Why, that grin was just... mischievous. Teasing. Challenging. She'd never thought there'd be anything challenging in Oliver Wood, other than when they were talking/playing quidditch, but there you go. And how when he smiled like that, that surprisingly full bottom lip jutted out just that slightest bit, how she'd like to just _nibble_ at that bottom lip. And explore the dimple that appeared in his left cheek when he smiled. And push aside that gorgeous hair of his that kept falling into his eyes and just.... Okay, _whoa_. Where had _that_ come from? Well, sure she was a sexually active female and all that, but she'd never really fantasized about doing that to a man... when he was standing less than five feet away from her. Or when said man was her best friend. Ginny felt like fainting, especially when his look turned concerned. "You alright there, Ginny girl? You're looking a bit flushed." He came to her in two short strides of his long legs and pressed the back of his hand against her forehead. Ginny let out a little squeak and moved back.

"I'm fine, really."

"You're burning up, Gin." _Burning up from a **far** different reason than you think_, Ginny thought. He was standing awfully close. And he was wearing _that_ scent. The one that she bought for him. The muggle one. Eternity. It made her eyes cross and her knees want to buckle. She could feel the heat that radiated off from him, even through his clothes, could feel the strands of his hair brushing against her face. If Ginny had been a fainter, she was sure she'd end up on the floor by his feet. Since she wasn't, she took an abrupt step back, trying to ignore the brief flash of hurt she saw in his eyes.

"I've, uh, got to finish the cake. For Ron's birthday. It's uh, I've.. I gotta go." She practically fled back into the kitchen. When she was carefully covering the top of the cake with the chocolate sauce, Ginny wanted to berate herself. Dammit. Damn, damn, damn, damn! She hadn't had that kind of reaction to anyone since when she was dating Malfoy. But that was in Hogwarts, past, gone. This thing with Oli... well. Very much in the future. She was in serious trouble, and she knew it. Ginny jumped when she felt him lean in behind her and reach a hand to swipe at the chocolate sauce. Automatically, she lifted the wooden spoon on the counter and thwacked him on the hand with it. Oliver's hand instantly withdrew as he let out a yelp. She didn't have to look at him to know that there was a mock-injured look on his face. "Later, Oliver," she said, without even turning her head to look at him. "Ron's birthday today, Ron's birthday cake. You'll have to wait till we're at the Burrow to eat."

"I just wanted a little bit of chocolate sauce, lass!" Oliver complained. Ginny remained unmoved, or tried to pretend to be. Her heart was beating so fast in her chest, pounding so loudly that she wondered if she was the only one who could hear it. He was still pressed behind her, the heat of his body travelling through her clothes and heating her blood. Goddess, why wouldn't he _move_? Then she felt his arms wrap themselves around her waist and his chin resting on her shoulder. She wanted to melt, right there. Like the chocolate sauce. She could feel his warm breath against her cheek and tried to ignore the pounding of her heart. Best friends, they were best friends. Nothing more. They were just friends. Sometimes it was hard to remember that. They had grown so close, so close. They didn't speak of their grief, that first year. Then they decided it would be better to talk about it. They were always together, whenever Oliver was back from Romania (which was far more often than it used to be), they would do everything together. She wondered if anyone had realised that she had fallen in love with Oliver.

"I'll let you lick my spoon later, alright?" she was startled to find her voice shaking. She felt him burrow his face closer to her neck, and felt his lips curve into a smile. His body started shaking with his laughter and she scrunched up her nose, trying to figure out what she had said to make him laugh and also to ignore the feeling of him behind her when her eyes suddenly went wide and she spun around in his grasp to glare at him. "You perverted arse, Oliver Wood."

"I can't help it," he snorted. "I really can't. You sounded so exasperated when you said it as well. Oh Gin-girl." Ginny shook her head, grinning up at him while he smiled down at her.

"Oh, Oli," she said quietly. "What _ever_ shall I do with you?"

"Anything you want, love," he said, and though he was smiling, Ginny knew him well enough to detect that serious note in his tone. Her eyebrows shot up to nearly her hairline. She looked uncertain, eyes locked onto his.

"Oli?" her voice was soft, unsure as she stared at him. He smiled at her, slightly, and raised a hand to brush at her hair. He took a curl and rubbed it. They were so close, standing so close. Too close, much too close for the friends they were supposed to be. Too, too close.

"You've always had such beautiful hair, Gin," he said, quietly. "So soft, too. Feels like silk. I've always adored your hair." Then that hand of his traced gentle fingertips down her cheek, traced her cheekbones, went over the delicate arch of her brows. Down her nose, then finally traced her lips. Her eyes had grown large as she stared up at him, everything she felt in those eyes of hers. Confusion, uncertainty, and also something else he could only hope was real. He leaned down, his breath warming her face, when they heard the pop.

"Ginny! Ginny, hurry up with the cake. Ron's coming, now! Ginny, what on earth are you bloody doing? Gin!" The sound of footsteps turned the corner and Ginny tried to pull away from Oliver, but failed, her being trapped against the counter and Oliver's body. The person walked into the kitchen, then froze at the scene. One red brow lifted up, slowly. Burly arms crossed in front of a broad chest. He cocked his head to the side and shot the couple _the look_. Ginny reflexively swallowed. "What have we here, eh?"

"_Charlie_," Ginny squeaked, the blood travelling to her face. Oliver didn't let go of Ginny, merely raised an eyebrow at his friend, much like what he was doing to Oliver himself. Ginny tried to push Oliver away, but he held her still in his arms. "Charlie, look, it's not what it looks like –"

"Oh yes it bloody well _is_," Oliver growled, glaring at her. She glared back at him.

"Not helping, Oli," she hissed.

"I'm not trying to. What are you trying to do?"

"What am _I_ trying to do? Oh that's real rich," she snapped.

"You know perfectly well that this is exactly what it looks like and you're trying to _deny_ it?" the Scotsman scowled at her. "I'm not going to let you deny it."

"You are _not_ the boss of me, Oliver Douglas Wood!" she shouted.

"Well, I wouldn't be trying to be if you weren't so bloody stubborn about this!" he yelled back.

"I'm a Weasley. We're stubborn. Get. Used. To. It!"

"I've been friends with Weasleys for five years, I know first hand about how bloody effing stubborn they can be!"

"_Hey_!" two different Weasleys yelled, then Oliver and Ginny's heads snapped over towards Charlie.

"Stay out of this!" The two of them whipped their heads back towards each other.

"Don't you scream at my brother!"

"Don't scream at my best friend!"

"I thought _I_ was your best friend!"

"You were until you started acting like a bloody spoilt, stubborn, petulant child!"

"Why you little –"

They both lunged for each other, but instead of claws, Charlie was horrified to see them snogging the bloody daylights out of each other. He felt himself turn slightly green. Ginny was gripping at the back of Oliver's head and Oliver had Ginny pressed against the counter, his hands roving over her body. Ginny pulled back from the kiss, gasping and letting out these little sounds that should they come from anyone but his little sister, he would've found erotic. Instead, he felt decidedly ill. When Oliver's hands snaked towards the hem of Ginny's skirt, however, Charlie had had enough. He strode towards the couple and yanked Oliver away from his sister. The two were breathing harshly, eyes bright, lips swollen and faces flushed.

"Enough, already," Charlie snapped. "I really didn't have to see my sister being groped by my best friend." He shuddered. "Please, if you continue to be doing so, don't do it in my presence. Ever again," with that he walked towards the kitchenette, picked up the cake and apparated away. Finding themselves alone again, they were suddenly awkward. Then Oliver started chuckling. Ginny's head shot up to meet the Scotsman's, and felt her lips tugging into a smile. Oliver walked over to her, the back of his hand stroking her cheek.

"Figures, eh?" he said, softly. "I've wanted to do that for slightly over a year, now."

"Why didn't you?" Ginny asked, breathless again. He smiled, leaned down and brushed his lips against hers once, twice, three times. Paused. Once again, twice, three times.

"You always had some kind of bloke hanging around you, Gin-girl. And I didn't want to ruin our friendship."

"I'm... I'm glad you took a chance, today," she said. Then she laughed. "I suppose I should thank Charlie as well. Though I can't believe we pulled in front of my brother." She was still chuckling when Oliver started kissing her earnestly again, changing her laughter into a moan.

* * *

They were conspicuously late coming into Ron's party. When they did, though, both still had kiss swollen lips and bright eyes. Their clothes were straightened out, somewhat, but Ginny was starting to form a hickey and there was a lipstick mark, unnoticed by the two of them, on the shoulder of his jumper. The whole of the Weasley clan (sans Ginny, obviously) was waiting for them. The Burrow was eerily silent as the two apparated over. They felt the prickle of 16 pairs of eyes as Charlie led them into the living room. Everyone was staring at them in fascination and Ginny couldn't help the flush that infused her face, again. Her hand unconsciously sought Oliver's and at that gesture, the silence broke.

"Well, I won," Blaise said, smugly. "Ron's birthday."

"Fuckit," Draco muttered. "If they'd waited just a few more weeks, I'd have won."

"Don't be such a sore loser, dear," Luna said, patting him on the knee. Her husband rolled his eyes and let out a long suffering sigh.

"I am not a sore loser, love."

"You very much are."

"Am not," Draco said, stubbornly.

"Are too. And you always need to have the last word. And always have to be right." Draco looked injured.

"That's not true."

"Yes it is."

"No it isn't."

"Yes it is."

"Merlin, here they go again," Tonks muttered at Percy. The third Weasley child sighed and nodded. The married couple continued bickering as everyone collectively sighed and handed out a bunch of bills towards Blaise, who accepted them with an unholy glee in his eyes. Pansy smiled at him.

"I hope you don't think that you're keeping that all for yourself, darling." Blaise froze, looked at his girlfriend of four months. He looked pleading. She was unmoved. "You're taking us to that new restaurant Warrington opened."

"But.. but.."

"It will be lovely. I'll have to buy new robes, of course. I'll put it on your account again, shall I?"

"I suppose," Blaise looked sulky. Marcus clapped his hand on Blaise's back.

"Bad luck, mate," he said, sympathetically. Katie jabbed him in the stomach with her elbow and he glared at his new wife. "Women."

"Keep that going, and you'll be sleeping on the couch for the next two weeks," she said, primly. Marcus' eyes widened, then he pulled his wife into his arms. Katie giggled as Marcus kept her burrowed by his side and whispered sweet nothings in her ear. All this time, however, Ginny was staring incredulously at her "family". She put her hands on her hips and glared at them.

"You all had a _bet?_"

"Mhmm. Went up to about 340 galleons." Blaise glared at his girlfriend, but Pansy didn't pay him any notice. The ex-Slytherin woman was inspecting her beautifully manicured nails and smirking. Ginny's eyebrow inched up. Oliver looked at her face, then immediately banded his arms around her.

"Run," he advised them. "Run now." The Weasleys looked at Ginny's face, then took Oliver's good advice. They ran. The rest of the family, taking their cue, ran as well. Ginny started shrieking obscenities about how it was her life, and that they had no right to have a bet, among other things. Some words were incoherent, then she reverted to cursing. His Ginny had quite the mouth on her, he thought. Then he smirked. He knew she had a mouth on her. Finally, she stopped and looked at him.

"They all gone?" she asked, quietly. He nodded, and felt his mouth twitching. Ginny laughed, then, and spun around in his arms, throwing her arms around his neck. "How about I give you a tour of my old room?" she asked, suggestively. To answer her, Oliver picked her up and carried her, laughing, into her room. He closed the door with the tip of his boot and dropped her carefully on the bed. He took out his wand and muttered every locking and silencing charm he knew and then joined her on the bed. He rolled them so that he was on top of her, and he smiled wickedly. He leaned down, kissing her softly once. Twice. Three times. Pause. Once more, twice. Three times.

"I love you," she said, softly, her lips curving into a smile. He smiled back at her.

"I love you, too." Then he proceeded to show her exactly how much he did.

* * *

end one shot.  
  
This was written for Avanti for her birthday. Happy belated birthday, girl. Hope you liked.  



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